Dances Bright
by Rukia Siry
Summary: Hope plays, Vanille dances, and no one is entirely sure how or why it happened. AU-ish.


Hope wondered where his mom was.

He'd never pegged himself for the type to be overly reliant on his parents – in fact, now that he was _fourteen_, that tendency was probably more embarrassing than anything. Just check out his relationship with his _dad_, the lying old geezer who still wasn't here despite his endless reassurances. Fourteen years of broken promises should have set him up for this latest letdown. Try as he might, Hope still couldn't squash the tiniest stab of disappointment.

He shook the thought from his mind, and wondered where the heck his mother had gone.

Of course, he knew what she was _doing_. Nora Estheim had disappeared into the crowd several minutes prior, claiming a need to purchase a pair of sparklers at the multitudes of stands that dotted the main plaza. Never mind that it was barely clearing late afternoon and the fireworks were still two hours off. Never mind that pyrotechnics were technically banned in the streets due to their occasional role in starting fires, except that that particular law was never enforced, fairly obscure and shamelessly breached on festival nights like this one.

He just really wanted to know where she was now, why she was taking so long and when she'd be back.

Hope grunted and shifted where he sat on the edge of the fountain. She was taking a while, and he briefly considered ditching his spot and looking for her.

That is, until a cheery voice spoke up right next to his ear: "Feeling lost?"

"_Ahh!_" Hope jumped away from the noise. "What are you-" His foot slipped on flagstones slick with water, and he fell flat on the ground.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! "

A girl blinked clear blue eyes down at him and swept corkscrewed reddish curls over her shoulder, a kind smile on her face.

"You don't need to be surprised. Are you lost?"

Hope blinked, too surprised to react. Aside from her odd accent – Hope hadn't ever heard anyone from Cocoon speak with that kind of lilt – the girl had some of the strangest clothing he'd ever seen. She'd forsaken a shirt for a sort of halter-top and skirt backed by some kind of thick fur. Except it probably wasn't, because what kind of crazy person would wear something like that? Like the Pulsian savages he'd heard about in old stories.

He must have had an odd expression on his face, because the girl giggled and extended her hand. "Trouble getting up?"

Hope hesitantly grasped her wrist and let her pull him to his feet, a little surprised at the strength in her thin frame. "… Thanks, Miss-"

"_Vanille_," the girl insisted.

"Um, Vanille." It was an odd name, but he had to admit that it suited her. Sort of.

She backed off a little, smile still on her face – did she ever _stop _smiling? – and nodded. "So, you never answered my question! Are you lost?"

"_No_," Hope grumbled. "I'm just waiting for someone." His mom, if she'd just show up. Fal'cie knew he'd waited long enough.

His irritation didn't seem to bother the stranger – Vanille, he reminded himself. She nodded understandingly. "Oh, really? Same here! Though I suppose I'm more lost. It's quite easy to lose someone in this crowd, isn't it?" The girl looked around a little wistfully. "I'm sure we'll find each other soon. You have some spare time, though, right?"

"I guess."

The other girl smiled radiantly. "Yay! Can you help me with this thing, then? I got it from one of the salesmen at the festival!" And to Hope's surprise, she pulled out a rather large stringed instrument out of nowhere. He stared.

"… That's a guitar." _Who doesn't know what a guitar is? _And then: _Where did she pull that from?_

The girl paused, taking far too long to digest the words. "A… gi-tar?"

"… Yes? Are you from far away?" This girl was way stranger than he'd thought.

Vanille looked about as confused as Hope felt, but tried to cover it up. "Uhm – yes! Yes, I'm from… far away. _Very _far away." Had to be, if she didn't know what _guitars_ were. Though Hope didn't know where on Cocoon you might find a place without them. Perhaps in one of the more rural sections?

Vanille sheepishly giggled. "Anyways! So I got this… _gi-tar… _and I was wondering if you could show me how to use it, because you don't look like you're all _that_ busy."

Hope could have walked away. He could have gone looking for his mother like he had originally considered before this random stranger barged into his thoughts. He could have shoved her into the fountain and run like his life depended on it.

He glanced up at those pleading blue eyes, and against all logic, nodded.

_After all_, he thought resignedly, _what harm could it do?_

_._

_._

"Wow!" Vanille squealed. "You're great at this!"

"… Oh." Hope turned his face away a little, face pink. He actually had some experience with it, as he had played the guitar as part of the music program at his school. Still, he hadn't touched it for some years, having dropped out in the seventh grade.

Apparently the skill had aged well.

He played another couple bars, a little embarrassed at his faltering notes and twanging chords. He'd hardly pass scrutiny in an actual band, but with this girl, it didn't seem to matter.

"You can have it back," he tried – really, he hadn't been doing much but playing a couple of random tunes school and practice had drummed into his memory while she watched – but Vanille firmly shook her head, pouting.

"Aw, but I'm so terrible at it! It'd be a waste of talent. Tell you what-" she leaned over, curls brushing his shoulder, and Hope hastily leaned in the opposite direction. "Play another song!"

Hope sighed and mentally shuffled through his unimpressive repertoire. He strummed a chord, and then another. That was one of the deceptively simple ones from his childhood – it only had a few chords and a simple, upbeat rhythm, but sounded impressively complex to an outside observer. It'd been one of the few that his parents had both enjoyed. As he continued, his notes gradually became louder and more confident, his transitions more fluent.

It was barely half a minute into the piece that he noticed that the girl was no longer sitting beside him.

She was dancing.

Her arms dipped and swung as she spun gently around, calf-height boots thudding to the beat of the music. The skirt and fur throw she wore accented the movement of her upper body, alternately flaring and falling as she wove and twisted.

_Wow. _

Hope didn't (and didn't really want to) know much about dancing, but he could at least be impressed.

Though it wasn't really dancing, he noticed. It was more like a series of movements; she waved her hands like she was juggling an invisible baton between them and struck odd poses – were they supposed to be _cute_ or something? – every few seconds.

In any case, it was a lot easier, he found, to perform _well_ when there was someone to play off of. Enthusiasm started to bleed through his fingers into the music, and despite his best efforts, Hope couldn't quite stop the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Oh, he'd deny its existence to himself hours later. But for now…

Vanille swung back around to face him, laughing. "Finally having fun, silly?"

He tried and failed to keep his cheeks from flushing, but kept going.

That was when he noticed their audience.

Maybe it was because they were kids, and apparently they looked _innocent _and _endearing _enough to warrant a second look. Maybe it was because of Vanille's infectious giggles or dancing (which he privately admitted to himself was actually pretty good). Maybe it was his music, though Hope didn't flatter himself that he was talented at all. But a small crowd began to cluster around their quarter of the fountain, growing as more people took notice of their antics. Hope caught a glimpse of silver hair and beige clothing among the watchers and inwardly groaned, wondering what he had gotten himself into.

And when they actually _applauded _after he strummed the last chord, Hope nearly melted into the ground.

He almost missed Vanille's giggled, "Ciao!" in his ear and the sound of her light footsteps as she skipped off, guitar somehow out of his hands and clutched in hers.

The whole incident _definitely _slipped his mind completely when his mother, impish smile on her face, sidled up besides him with a sly, "And just _who _was that?"

On the whole, Hope didn't think his red-faced stammer was an adequate answer.

.

.

.

When Snow suggested that they perform for them on one firelit night down on Gran Pulse, Hope responded with a thunder spell to his kidneys. It was too bad that the blinding flash drew a behemoth as surely as his music would have.

And when Hope wasn't frantically trying to dodge a sweep of those ridiculously large claws, he was raging over the inanity of it all.

They didn't even have a _guitar_.

_fin._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Because I wanted to see Hope and Vanille putting on a performance together and being adorable. That last bit was supposed to be a segment in of itself, except I was lagging on this story and really wanted to upload something for once x) Cheers!**


End file.
